Bonding over Tarts

How strange it is that quarantine makes you, make that forces you, to spend time with the ones you love. We are so caught up in our lives, our works , our troubles, our cares, in our own world, that we fail to connect with the ones who matter, our families. We fail to give each other the time they require, the time we need. We are so constantly working hard for the money. Cause we believe the notion that man can’t live on love and fresh air, only.

Baking the tart was supposed to be my thing, to remove the edge you feel, the anxious feeling, to keep you sane. It was supposed be my baking therapy. But then she became my sous chef despite being the head chef in the kitchen, and trying more hijack my bake.

So she cut the bars of chocolate compounds while I prepared the dough. And while my dough rested she prepared the rotis as I cleaned the so called roasted peanuts. And when she was done with the rotis she oiled the pie pans as I tried to roll out the dough for my pastry, well make that our pastries. When the dough was kind of breaking after being rolled out, she patted dough into disks and I lined the pie trays with them, pressing it so that there wouldn’t be bubbles.

While the pie trays rested in the fridge, she quickly swept the house (despite my protest of waiting till the trays were baking in the oven). She got the sauce pans ready for preparing the chocolate ganache while I burnt my finger preparing the peanut brittle, and kept it for cooling. She was my lookout while I preheated the oven, panicking when smoke began to come out of it, only to find that the residue of the buns was causing it.

When the trays went into the oven, she washed the utensils (much to my protest) as I prepared the chocolate ganache. And when the pastries were finally ready, she went for a bath while they cooled. Once cooled, I added the ganache and the brittle and once again into the fridge they went, for setting. But before that she helped me make space in the fridge.

The outcome, a beautiful (for me it was perfect) chocolate ganache tart. And finally when I was taking pics and posting our creation, she constantly pestered me to go for a bath and have my dinner. 

Even though those pictures captured the beauty of the tarts, the mind captured a memory that will forever remain with me about the time when I bonded with my mumma over baking tarts!